


Past Resolution's Power

by maybemalapert (laconicisms)



Series: A Floating Spar to Men That Sink [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, F/M, Femdom, I meant to write porn but it turned into this, Lucifer actually being a dick (he has a reason but then he always has a reason), Lucifer actually trying to switch the tables on her at the end (and failing), Miscommunication, No Sex, Over the Knee, Spanking, aftercare interruptus, beginning stages of top drop, character exploration through kink, goes AU after 1.09, mentions of play partners being dicks, mentions of switching, this whole feelings and vulnerability thing sucks (for everyone)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 22:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10840671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laconicisms/pseuds/maybemalapert
Summary: Lucifer thinks he knows what he's getting into. Chloe also thinks he knows what he's getting into.He really doesn't.





	Past Resolution's Power

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to geckoholic for betaing and hand-holding. Shout-out to someone else <3 for providing excellent information on topping when I couldn't find what I was looking for (everything that's wrong here is on me).
> 
> This fic (and the subsequent sequels because this is a verse now oh god) brought to you by a series rewatch and way too much time spent researching topping, top drop, and parentification.
> 
> Title of fic and series taken from Edna St. Vincent Millay's excellent poem "Love is not all".

"You," she growled as they left the office building and headed for her cruiser, "are the most self-centered, willful, and childish person I know."

He had the nerve to look confused, and under less trying circumstances that would make him look just a tiny bit adorable. But today he'd interrupted her in the middle of interviewing a potential suspect to soliloquize about his own barely related issues, and _that_ had held up things long enough for Mr Burns' lawyer to make an appearance and firmly assert that no further questions would be answered. His client was grieving. They should kindly leave him alone.

She wanted to scream.

All but slamming the door of the car close, Chloe twisted in her seat to look at her partner and see if the penny had dropped. He looked back at her, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows, and his incomprehension would actually be kind of cute if he hadn't just _screwed things up_.

Taking a deep breath, Chloe decided to spell it out for him, explaining things in small words as she started the car, gripping the steering wheel a bit harder than necessary. Their investigation had barely begun and she was already ready to throttle him.

She needed to put her foot down.

Now.

He huffed and puffed through her explanation, and his response was, unfortunately, completely predictable.

"If you had let me question him--"

"No."

"I could have persu--"

"Lucifer. There are _rules_ , and you can't keep breaking them to get what you want."

"Why not?" The whiny tone of his voice really grated on her nerves. "It yields results."

God, he was such a child, and Chloe had zero patience for adults behaving like pre-schoolers.

"You still need to stick to the rules," she ground out.

"Again, why?"

Several possible answers shot through her head, everything from the actual explanation she'd given him enough times he should be able to recite it from heart and that she _had actually spelled out just now_ to _'because I said so_ _and what I say goes_. _'_

Apparently, her brain-to-mouth filter had gone on vacation because that was exactly what came out in the end.

"Ah, I forgot. You do love giving orders," his tone of voice clearly suggested bedroom-related orders.

Which, yeah, was true actually. Not that she would ever let him know.

Something, and she could have slapped herself, must have shown on her face because his eyebrows shot up again and she quickly focused her attention on the road again, where it belonged, effectively avoiding eye contact.

Unfortunately, she couldn't plug up her ears.

"I knew it!" he crowed, sounding positively gleeful. "I _knew_ you weren't as straight-laced as you pretend to be."

_Goddammit._

The car in front of them hit the brakes suddenly, giving her a moment to collect her thoughts as she pretended to concentrate on the traffic.

She had a choice at this point. She could deny it, but the cat was already out of the bag and unlikely to go back in, or she could… just admit it. It was highly improbable he would judge, and maybe playing it cool would make him drop the topic faster.

As casually as she could manage, Chloe replied, "Yeah, true," hoping her flush would go unnoticed. She was pretty sure that she was still a bit red in the face from being so fucking furious, and the embarrassment really wasn't helping there, either. Though, it was probably a blessing that she channeled a lot into anger. Really helped in situations like these.

There was silence.

A quick glance towards her partner revealed Lucifer's stunned expression. She had the feeling it was more her admitting to the fact that threw him and less her being into D/s play at all.

Really, she wasn't that prudish. It was just his constant come-ons that had her shoring up her defenses and behaving a bit more uptight than she might have otherwise. That and the general atmosphere at work. She was a woman in a men's world. Who'd shown her boobs on camera.

Never even mind Palmetto.

"Sooo," Lucifer drawled, obviously having recovered while she was preoccupied, "would you like to try giving me orders in a more fun setting?"

Oh sure, as if he'd actually obey her orders in _any_ setting. "Like you'd listen."

"You can't tell me you haven't fantasized about it before," he purred, shifting in his seat and leaning closer.  "The devil on his knees before you. Licking a--"

"Okay, stop," she interrupted, slowing the car as the traffic light ahead went from yellow to red.

"--hot line up you--" Was she imagining his breath in her ear?

"Lucifer, no." Making sure the light was still red, she turned her head to send him a glare and discovered that he was bare inches from her face, smiling as widely as the Cheshire cat.  

"Get back into your own seat." She paused. "And put on your seat belt. "

"Yes, ma'am." Grin growing impossibly wider, he leaned back right away while a tingle went through her lower belly. She bit the inside of her cheek and refocused her attention on the LA traffic. The click of the seat belt followed a moment later.

"Anything else, Ma'am?"

Okay, okay. Fine. He could be… he could behave. If he wanted to.

Which was the problem because she didn't want him behaving when he _felt like it_. She wanted-- Christ, she was really thinking about this, wasn't she? He'd finally gotten her to the point where she was seriously considering grabbing the proverbial bull -- or devil -- by the horns and having a scene with him.

Even if it might change their dynamic.

Who was she kidding, it probably would. Things might get awkward. It was incredibly unprofessional, too. Dr. Martin flashed through her mind suddenly, but Chloe wasn't that bad. She could absolutely restrain herself if she wanted to. She just… didn't. And it wasn't like they had any kind of conventional partnership in the first place. He kept making enough comments that she could sue him for sexual harassment three times a day if she'd wanted to.

Speaking of that, though: it was highly unlikely that he'd ever shut up about it, and he would totally let everyone know about it, too, but she could… deny it ever happened. If he did. She'd ask him not to, but it was Lucifer. He had no filter when it came to sex.

On the other hand, people might not actually believe him considering that she was known as a stick in the mud. Then again, she'd done that goddamn movie, effectively branding herself a slut forever and ever. It wasn't like her reputation could really get any worse.

And she wanted… fuck, she really _wanted_ to just--

Maybe it would actually make him think twice? It could totally be good for their partnership. Or her nerves, at least, because, _really_ , she'd be lying if she told herself she was doing it for the potential change in his behavior.

_Dan would…_

But Dan had never really understood that side of her anyway. Never really got the intimacy of it. Oh sure, he'd like to fool around with it a _little_ , but it was mostly just that. Fooling around. 

Plus, he was already assuming that she and Lucifer had had a fling, because he didn't trust her to tell the truth.

That seething anger she'd felt that day Lucifer had broken into her house to make her breakfast took over again. She'd thought she'd buried it deep, but apparently not deep enough.

_Am I really this petty?_

She was, but still. That was the wrong question to ask, the wrong approach to take. She would not do this out of spite. Far more important was this: Did she or did she not want to scene with Lucifer? Did she or did she not consider it a risk worth taking?

Chloe took a deep breath, mentally reviewed the pros and cons, and yes. She did, and she was willing to deal with the consequences.

Now, would Lucifer even want to play when she wouldn't have sex with him?

Maybe he wouldn't, but she'd never know if she didn't ask.

Feeling a thrill at her own daring, Chloe flicked up the indicator with her left hand. She turned into the parking lot of a shopping mall and parked the cruiser on the side. There was no way she was going to have that conversation while driving.

A woman pushing a shopping cart scowled at her as she maneuvered around the car. Chloe scowled back, noting absently that her fury had subsided a bit at the mere thought of finally topping someone again. God, it had been way too long.

Making sure her expression was still stern, rather than excited or unsure, Chloe turned to her partner. "The only thing I want from you right now is having you over my knee--" his eyes flashed "--and making sure you're learning your lesson."

"Excellent." Lucifer grinned. "I'm game."

"No." She held back a frustrated breath. "I'm not talking about a few taps on your ass. I'm serious about the punishment aspect." She held his gaze as she made this announcement, waiting for her words to get through. A moment later, a strange expression crossed his face, too quick for her to interpret.

"Well," he finally said, "this will be exciting."

Chloe frowned. "Wait. Are you saying--" She stopped, rephrased. What with Lucifer's reputation, she'd thought he'd have done this before. "How much subbing have you actually done?"

He gave her a look. "I assure you I've done everything at least twice. And a lot of things a good many times more."

When she continued to frown at him, he sighed. "I have experience. It's simply that I usually prefer _meting out_ punishments." He flashed his teeth at her. "But for you, Detective, I shall make an exception."

"Why?" Chloe couldn't help but ask. She had switched herself, a handful of times, but usually only with someone she'd known a lot longer than she and Lucifer had known each other.

Yes, she may have some issues when it came to relinquishing control. She was self-aware -- and honest -- enough to be able to admit this to herself.

Lucifer's sigh dripped with exasperation. "Because you're special, of course."

It sounded like a line, a pretty cheesy one at that, but everything from his tone to his expression told her that he was utterly serious.

_I will never understand this man._

Not knowing how to react to that, she fell back on something she felt more confident about.

"Is there anything that's off limits?"

He thought for a moment, and she was relieved that he took the question seriously instead of telling her that he was immortal and that she couldn't hurt him. She clearly could.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring dad into it." He shrugged. "People usually do. It's a heat of the moment thing, I'm aware, but it kills the mood _just a little_."

Right, his dad.

God.

Making a mental note not to swear during the scene -- cursing was one of the few times she ever brought up god -- Chloe nodded and decided to just roll with it. This was not the time to contradict his delusions. "I'm not a fan of people mentioning my parents either. Makes it weird."

"Yes. Exactly."

"Anything else?"

He hesitated, then made a vague motion with his hand. "My…" He cleared his throat. "If you could refrain from, ah, examining my scars. I don't mind if you touch them. That happens, but…" He trailed off again, frowning as he stared out the front window.

"I got it," she said, and she did. He didn't want her to treat the scars as a point of curiosity, something to be explored. She'd done that once, and his reaction had been unambiguous. She wouldn't do it again, not without permission.

"Other than that," he continued, "you have leave to command my body as you see fit. Might I suggest a butt plug? That alw--"

Chloe was pretty sure that he was trying to distract her from the topic of his scars, but just in case he was being serious, she needed to nip this in the bud now.

"We won't be having sex, Lucifer." Hell, if she did her job right, he wouldn't even be thinking about it. Regardless, she needed to be sure he _understood_. She'd had trouble before with guys who didn't understand -- or didn't want to understand -- that she wasn't just teasing them.

Lucifer let out a sigh. "Very well."

"I'm serious. There--"

" _Yes_." He frowned at her. "I don't go back on my word, Detective. You know that."

"There'll be _pain_ ," she stressed.

" _Good_ ," he replied, drawing out the word. "Wouldn't be a punishment without it, now would it?"

Okay, he did seem to get it. "Glad we're on the same page," she said after a pause.

And now that she was sure of that, they could proceed with the pre-scene negotiations.

Anticipation built insider her, chasing back her previous irritation with him just a bit more, and putting her back into the right headspace.

Yeah, she was gonna enjoy this.

\--

All in all, figuring out when and where they were gonna do this turned out to be the hardest part. Chloe absolutely refused to take a break from work and by the time her shift ended, school would long have let out.

She had a sitter, of course, but regardless, this pretty much killed the idea of going to her mother's house. Not that the idea of spanking her partner in _her mother's house_ wasn't a mood killer on its own. And, well, logically speaking, Lucifer's apartment was the perfect choice, but she'd hoped she could put him on the back foot by doing this in territory that was more familiar to _her_.

Chloe kept the sigh to herself as they got into the elevator.

It couldn't be helped, she guessed.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Chloe stepped out first, casting a quick glance about to make sure they were alone. "Get us some water; then go to the bedroom," she ordered, not bothering to look at him as she headed towards his bathroom.

He didn't reply, but she didn't need him to as long as he did what she said. Roleplay, using titles, the whole shebang, wasn't really what she was into.

She took her sweet time washing her hands and looking for a towel. Lucifer was never the most patient of men, and it would do him some good to wait on her. Besides, it gave her the time to properly slip into the frame of mind she needed, especially since… god, it had been _years_ since her last pain play scene. Dan had never been that much of a fan -- some yeah, but he was more vanilla than not -- and it had taken a lot of persuasion to entice him into it, and each time she did she ended up feeling guilty about talking him into something he found boring and not worth the discomfort. Add Trixie to it, and well.

"Detective! What is it with you and taking so long in bathrooms? Are you getting up to something naughty in there? Do--"

Chloe grabbed a towel and pulled open the door to reveal Lucifer standing in the way, fairly bouncing on his feet.

"Lucifer," she said, putting on the kind of expression she usually reserved for interrogations, "one more word that isn't an apology, and--"

Before she could finish her sentence, a devilish gleam appeared in his eyes. _Yeah. Here it comes._

"Word," he said, drawing out the 'o'.

He was so, _so_ predictable.

"26," she replied, without skipping a beat. "And before you think of signing up for more, maybe you should see how much you like those first."

He pursed his lips as if he were thinking about it, then mimicked zipping his lips close and winked. She valiantly resisted rolling her eyes at him. It didn't jive with the image she was trying to project.

"Now," she continued, taking a step forward and tugging at his shirt, "you're still wearing too many layers."

It was a bit mean, admittedly, she thought, watching him visibly struggle not to say anything in reply. Under any other circumstances, he'd be having a field day with that statement.

In the end, he dipped his head before turning smoldering eyes on her. Oh yeah, he was gonna try to make a show of this. Having fully anticipated him trying to wrench back control, Chloe simply pushed past as his hands went to the buttons of his shirt.

From behind, she heard an exasperated huff, and her lips twitched. She kept her back turned, though, and took the time to really survey what she had to work with.

King-sized bed, obviously. Couple of pillows -- check. Headboard -- nice and sturdy, good. Bed sheets… was that silk or satin? Silk probably, she decided. It wasn't like he scrimped on luxury items.

There were also two bottles of some fancy French water standing on the nightstand.

A shift of clothing and then Lucifer stepped around her to deposit his shirt on the chair in the corner. She was trying very hard not to pay attention to him -- or, at least, to give the impression -- but she did note the mournful look on his face as if she'd spoiled his fun by not watching him strip. Which had been the point, so, _good_.

While Lucifer stripped out of the rest of his clothes, she sat down on the left side of the bed to take off her own shoes, ignoring the raised eyebrow. She moved herself to the center of the headboard, tossed two of the pillows towards the foot -- almost hitting Lucifer, who was standing near the edge --, before arranging herself on the third and finally giving him her full attention again.

He was naked, bathed in the evening light, skin almost glowing golden, and right then she could see why he chose the name Lucifer -- Lightbringer.

She kept that thought to herself, however, because he was also still looking way too confident.

"Put your hands behind your back," she said, waiting until he'd complied, before patting her towel-covered lap and adding, "and now climb on."

He tried walking around the bed first, of course, but she cleared her throat and motioned him back.

Trying to move onto and across a bed without using your hands was generally awkward; doing so on silk sheets, however, added another notch on the difficulty level. She'd meant to make him feel less sure about himself -- and succeeded, a little, because he did slip and overbalance a bit at one point -- but he still managed to make it look more graceful than she'd have thought possible.

Probably had a lot of practice.

The anger that was still boiling underneath her skin -- there was always anger inside her; she couldn't remember how long it had been there, seemed like forever -- bubbled up, breaking the surface, and twisted around the anticipation, like two snakes coiling around each other. She let them. She was in control of her emotions; they weren't in control of her. That thought settled her, made her back straighten, made her face set more naturally into the frown she was wearing already.

Lucifer stopped short, kneeling an inch away from her, and tilted his head, _and really_. This wouldn't do. She leaned forward, grabbed hold of his hair, not enough to pull it out, but enough to be uncomfortable, and dragged him the rest of the way. He gasped, his hands shooting out to steady himself, and she pulled harder until he sprawled across her lap.

In the back of her mind, she noted how he still hadn't said anything, hadn't protested, was behaving -- for him anyway -- for now.

"Get into position."

He wriggled around for a bit, not long enough for her to reprimand him, but scraping along the limits of her patience. But then he was lying across her lap, and her mouth went dry and her pulse spiked -- not in a bad way -- and there it was. The expanse of his skin, the scars on his back, which she was ignoring, and his ass, which was very fine and which she'd be giving all of her attention. His ass was also very white, and that threw her for a moment because she'd somehow expected him to sunbathe in the nude and moon that imaginary deity he was so pissed at.

Whatever the reason, his skin was delightfully pale and simply begging for a nice hand-shaped print. Chloe raised her hand, aimed, and brought it down with a sense of personal gratification that was bigger than she had anticipated and increased, _exponentially_ , at his reaction. As her palm made contact with his ass, Lucifer gave a startled yelp and all but shot off her lap.

_Good._

She didn't try to pull him back, merely raised her eyebrow when he cast her a wide-eyed look. He'd agreed to this, so either he was coming back on his own or he could safeword. She wasn't going to chase him.

It took a few seconds for him to make up his mind to crawl back onto her lap, now that he had an idea of what was in store for him. He spread out, muscles taut underneath her hand. She raised her arm again and felt him tense up even further.

Very good.

Not giving him a chance to relax, she brought her hand down instantly. This time he only grunted and stayed in position.

"You need," she said, punctuating her words with another swat, then keeping the pace steady at about every second syllable, "to follow my lead." He gasped and moved, grabbing hold of the sheet with his right hand. She did not let up, but stopped bothering to properly alternate between words and swats.

They were partners.

_Eight._

She didn't feel respected as a person when he acted as he did.

_Nine and ten._

At eleven, his gasps and grunts turned muffled as he burrowed his face into his right elbow, and he began to move, not quite trying to escape, but clearly unable to keep still.

She paused for a moment, giving her arm some rest, then aimed her next swat lower.

_"Bloody hell!"_

"Not what I wanted to hear," she replied, not bothering to keep the amusement out of her voice, and aimed for the same spot, putting more of a swing into it. Lucifer hollered loud enough to cause a minor earthquake over in Sanfran.

"Fine. _Fine_ ," he gritted, twisting his neck to glare at her. "I'm _sorry_." Smiling like the proverbial shark, she lightly tapped the spot she'd hit twice now. He blanched. "Really, I mean, really!"

That did sound more honest. She nodded in acknowledgement. "Okay. Thirteen more to go."

He licked his lips and squeezed his eyes shut, before reluctantly turning back round.

Damn, but she could get used to the expression on his face.

No more interruptions or pauses now, she decided. She'd keep the pace slow and steady and relentless, counting them silently and casting the occasional glance towards his head. Four swats into the second half, he was smothering his face into the mattress, right hand still gripping the sheets while his left, clenched into a fist, was beating out a rhythm of its own against the bed.

It was clear he was trying to keep quiet -- more out of pride than a desire to spare the neighbors a show or keep from scaring the birds passing by, she was sure -- but she could still hear how his breath hitched and his groans changed into something that was more of a sob.

She almost stopped, because she'd had subs crying before, but somehow this was different -- _why is this different, what's different about him, what_ \-- and, Jesus, she might like it _too much_ , and that was not a thought she'd had since before she'd accepted this part about herself.

She was about to check in, she really was, when he gave a growl and told her to _get on with it, damn you, detective._ Voice low and breathing harsh, but he was giving her the go ahead, and by _who the fuck ever_ , she craved what he was willing to give her so much she wanted to claw it out of him.

She raised her hand, then, and made the most of that bit of stability that her position offered her.

He took it, and he cried out, and she couldn't help herself, she told him he was _doing great_ , being _so good_ for her, because this was hard, she could tell how fucking hard this was for him -- preferred meting out punishments, yep. Preferred not to be vulnerable around anyone, too, but he was showing her _this_.

At 26, she leaned back, gave him and herself a minute to breathe, then helped him slide off her lap till he was lying half on his side, face hidden behind his arm, breathing harshly.

"You did well," she said, lightly clasping his arm to try to get him to look at her. He froze as if she'd just pointed a gun at him.

" _Very well_ ," she stressed, voice dropping to a murmur. She stopped tugging at his arm and instead rubbing small circles into his skin. "I'm proud of you." He made a noise that _couldn't_ _possibly_ have come from a human, a keening sound and then his whole frame started shaking.

Chloe's heart skipped a beat as she came to a realization she should have had long ago, or at the very least sometime in the last five minutes: A man who'd named himself after  _literally Satan_ and who insisted on not actually being evil was probably not someone who'd been praised very often. At least not for being good.

Likely not as a child either.

She shifted, lying down beside him and just held onto him, making shushing noises. She bit back her desire to praise him again, instinct telling her that she'd been scraping along on the edge of what was a limit to him, even if he hadn't outright said so.

_Didn't know or didn't want to say?_

Hoping it was the former, she made a mental note to bring it up afterwards while the question of whether it was a soft or a hard limit shot through her head. Of whether he would let her push him further over the edge if they ever did this again.

_For fuck's sake. Head in the game, Chloe._

His breathing remained harsh and fast for a while yet, before he visibly tried to pull himself together.

"I'll just get a washcloth," she murmured, squeezing his shoulder and getting up. She grabbed one of the bottles and sent it rolling towards him. "Drink something."

When she got back, he'd shifted, head angled towards her. His eyes were wide, almost like shock, and red-rimmed, too -- of course, they would be, and all she wanted to do that very moment was grab his face and hold him and make that expression go away, the one that was so confused, because it physically hurt her to think of what his past must have been like.

_Don't think of the scars._

She was thinking of the scars.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she lay down next to him again, ignoring the untouched bottle, and began cleaning his face. The water could wait for a moment. As could everything else.

She was still contemplating how best to breach the topic of her almost fuck-up, when his hand closed around her wrist -- how did he have so much strength? -- and stilled her hand.

He licked his lips, twice. "Wrong end to be doctoring, detective."

She handed him the water bottle with her left, a bit awkwardly since she was half lying on her arm. "Not scared to let me near your back end again?"

He closed his eyes, something that may have been a laugh, might have been a groan, escaping his lips, and he _still hadn't let go off her arm_.

_Trying to take back control?_

_Most likely._

"Lucifer."

He shook his head, opened his mouth, closed it again, and she could see the walls going back up all the way, could see his body language changing, going from open and honest to playboy, and they still needed to have a real talk, dammit.

But it was no good because from then on he cut off any further attempts at aftercare on her part, even going so far as leaping out of bed -- wincing, but still -- and by the time she was walking out of Lux she'd gone from feeling high to feeling highly irritated -- normal, for their relationship, actually -- and worried, and tomorrow she was going to tie him down if she had to and--

Shoving the worry down as far as it would go, Chloe slammed the door to the car, yanked at the seat belt, which promptly jammed, and burst into angry laughter. She'd come full circle, fucking _deja vu_. Just, why did he have to be so _difficult_. Like herding cats, or tigers, more like, because Lucifer Morningstar was dangerous.

_Hand around her wrist like a vise._

She shoved _that_ down, too.

Tomorrow, she resolved, tomorrow she'd check in and they'd talk about the scene, about her anger, about… about everything.

Tomorrow.

 


End file.
